Unshackled
by Prisoner 24601
Summary: Loghain finds submitting to the authority of another difficult enough to bear, but when his former lieutenant makes a request of the new Warden Commander, the assault to his pride is more than he can take.
1. Chapter 1

This four shot story was written in response to the pride prompt for the Seven Deadly Sins Challenge on the Loghain Live Journal community. It is also is the third of a series of loosely related shorts featuring a m!Amell, that starts with _Fallen Companion_ and continues with _Aftershocks_. This fic should be able to stand on it's own, but if you are wondering why Loghain is still alive to his and Amell's great surprise, it is answered in _Aftershocks_.

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**Chapter One**

In his long and varied life, Loghain had never experienced anything as undignified as sitting in his shirt and small clothes on a bed in Denerim's most notorious brothel with a pair of meddling women inspecting his flesh. As they clucked like hens, he couldn't decide which of the pair was worse: the fussy mage with her brisk hands and sharp tongue or the Orlesian spy with her useless romantic nattering.

Leliana clapped her hands together as Wynne pealed back one of the bandages. The jagged wound ran from his ankle to his knee and was still red and puffy, but it looked much better than it had after the battle with the Archdemon. "Oh now that's a nice scar. Very dashing!"

"Yes," Loghain drawled, wondering if there would ever come a time when Leliana would string two words together that were not complete nonsense. "Perhaps I should thank the Archdemon for giving me a limp for the rest of my life."

Wynne clucked her tongue. "Oh now really, there's no reason to overreact," she said as though Loghain were an unruly boy and not a man who had seen five decades. "It is quite likely your leg will heal by the time you leave for Amaranthine, but only if you rest the way I told you." She wagged a finger at him. "You should be grateful this was your only wound, or that you even live."

Loghain grimaced, more from Wynne's admonishment than the tingling sensation of her healing magics. "More surprised than grateful, madam."

According to Riordan, Loghain should have died from dealing the killing blow to the Archdemon. It would have been a fitting way to end his life, allowing him to atone for his past mistakes and redeem himself in the eyes of both the daughter and the nation that he loved. The last thing Loghain had expected was to wake up after the battle. It must have been the last thing Amell had expected too, as the mage's shock at Loghain's continued existence had mirrored Loghain's own chagrin.

And yet, here he was.

Loghain had no idea what had gone wrong, but he suspected the new warden commander did from the dark look on his face whenever the subject was broached. But whatever had happened, Marcus Amell remained tight-lipped. No amount of pushing would convince the man to take Loghain into his confidence, and being kept out of the information loop was deeply galling for the man who had been the center of Ferelden politics, strategy and defense for the last thirty years.

"The Maker must have further plans for you," Leliana said.

"More likely the Maker was having a good laugh at my expense," he grumbled.

That cynical thought actually seemed to disturb the girl. "Oh, no! The Maker loves all of his children."

She drew breath, no doubt to in order to fuel more of her cheerfully pious heresy, but Loghain was no mood to listen to her prattle. He cut her off before she could speak. "You must have more important things to do than preach to me, like taking care of your ridiculous nug."

Leliana waved a dismissive hand, but thankfully rose. "Oh, Schmooples is fine. The girls are taking care of him for me, but I should go see if Sanga needs more help with the crowds."

The relief the bard's exit brought was marred by the irritation of the situation they were currently in. Loghain's frowned as door closed behind the bard. "People are still requesting to see the Warden Commander?"

Wynne nodded. "There's a line out the front door and around the block. Sanga and the girls are doing what they can to control the chaos, but the crowds grow every day."

Once word had gotten out that the grey warden who'd saved Ferelden was staying at the Pearl, crowds had started appearing. Some brought gifts. Some wanted the Warden Commander to bless their children or hoped his magics would cure their diseases. Others wanted him to help them sort out their petty squabbles. Many came to volunteer to join the ranks of the grey wardens. Unfortunately from what Loghain had seen, very few were actually skilled enough to be useful.

Loghain scowled. "This wouldn't be a problem if we were in the keep where we belong."

Which was impossible as the very first order of the newly minted king was to bar Loghain from setting foot there ever again. Amell had commandeered the Pearl as their base of operations out of necessity, since after the battle for the city there weren't many buildings left standing in Denerim large and sturdy enough to for a makeshift headquarters. Loghain wondered how much gold Amell had paid Sanga to keep her and the girls relatively happy. Probably a small fortune.

"True." Wynne fixed him with the pointed glare she sent his way every blasted day. She discarded the dirty bandage and applied a clean poultice and wrap to his leg wound. "But then I cannot say I blame Alistair for his decision."

"Of course you can't," Loghain snapped. As far as Loghain could tell, Wynne was incapable of blaming Maric's bastard for anything. "But I can. He is acting like a sullen child and now my daughter is forced to humiliate herself by visiting her father at a brothel."

Wynne's voice was both wry and unsympathetic. "Anora is quite resilient. Besides, it is good you are not at the keep. Alistair and Anora need time to learn how to live and work with one another. Your presence would only drive a wedge between them before they even get married." Wynne rose and smoothed out her robes. "Now as for you, you need to keep off that leg as much as possible, or I will be forced to pay you another visit, and I don't believe either one of us wants that."

"That won't be necessary. I'm certain my daughter will have more important things for her newest adviser to do."

"It puts Anora at ease to know that her father is well, which considering how much is resting on her shoulders is not an inconsiderable thing." She straightened as she finished her work, resting her hands on her hips. "Unfortunately her father is the worst and most irresponsible patient I've ever had. You are not a young man Loghain Mac Tir. Your body needs rest in order for your wounds to heal properly. If you do not stay off that leg, next time I shall bring your daughter and you will have three women to deal with instead of two."

Loghain grunted and Wynne's lips slid into one of her irritating half serene, half self satisfied smiles as she turned and walked briskly out of the room, no doubt to nag some other poor bastard entrusted to her care.

She was gone for less than a minute when he could stand the inaction no longer. With a hiss he swung his legs over the bed and reached for his trousers and boots. Laying about for the good part of the last two weeks had nearly driven him mad, and he had no intention of following her instructions. But when his leg buckled when he stood and put his weight on it, he reached under the bed for the walking stick he'd hidden under the bed.

Satisfied that he wasn't going to embarrass himself by falling on his face in the middle of the hallway, he half stomped, half hobbled out of the room and down the corridor to where the new warden commander had set up his study.

By the time Loghain had reached the end of the hallway his indignation with the pair of women and irritation with his own physical weakness had reached boiling point. Loghain didn't bother to knock, he simply burst through the door and bellowed, "Amell, I swear if those women of yours won't stop nagging me to rest, I'm going to-"

He stopped short, in both his words and his footsteps when he realized that Amell wasn't alone, and genuine pleasure twisted his scowl into something that was not quite a smile because she had finally come to see him.

"Cauthrien! They should have told me you were here."

Ser Cauthrien gaped up at him, brown eyes wide. All of the color seemed to drain from her striking face, but before Loghain could demand that she tell him what was wrong, Amell spoke. "They didn't because I was having a private meeting with her."

Amell's voice didn't rise, but it had the effect of snatching Loghain and Cauthrien's attention to the large man hunched over a too small desk. A desk stacked with such a daunting pile of vellum documents that it almost made Loghain grateful he was not in command.

Almost.

But even though he owed his life to this man, even though Amell had tried to give him an honorable death, Loghain couldn't help but burn with resentment. His pride smarted as though stung by a whole swarm of wasps. Being a subordinate after being in command of so much for so long made even the most reasonable requests difficult to tolerate.

Worse, he was being put in his place in front of Cauthrien. There weren't many whose opinion he respected; Amell could have dressed him down in front of the entire Bannorn and it wouldn't have been as aggravating. Still, Loghain couldn't blame Amell; he would have done the same if a subordinate burst into his study uninvited.

Loghain frowned at Amell, but the warden commander merely looked back. After a long, awkward silence, Loghain cleared his throat and ground the bitter words out, grimacing as he spoke. "I'm afraid I'm rather accustomed to being the one behind the desk, instead of the one waiting outside the door. I will go if you wish for privacy."

Amell didn't answer. He merely turned his questioning gaze to Cauthrien, leaving the decision up to her. She hesitated, which told Loghain that she really did want to send him out of the room. A better man, a better friend, a better commander would have respected her privacy, but the worry eating at his belly from the odd way she was acting kept him rooted to the spot. He glowered down at her, silently willing her assent.

Her loyalty to him won out in the end, the way he knew that it would, the way that it had all times but one.

"No," she said, never taking her eyes off of her former commander's face. "He should stay. He would know soon anyway."

Cauthrien's words affirmed that he'd made the right choice forcing the issue. Bushy dark brows lifted over intense blue eyes as he made the demand. "Know what?"

The stubborn line of her jaw was something he'd seen countless times as she'd earned her way up the army's ranks. But having that determination directed squarely at him was an entirely new and disconcerting experience. "I've asked to join the Grey Wardens."

Loghain's eyes widened and then narrowed as his hand sliced through the air. "Absolutely not. I won't allow it."

"What I can and cannot do is not your decision anymore."

The words were quiet and spoken without malice, but nevertheless they were worse than a sword to the gut. Bitter bile clawed up the back of his throat making it difficult to speak. Loghain gestured to his new commander and growled the words out. "Then he cannot allow this!"

Amell frowned. "Why not? I know from personal experience that she is capable in a fight."

"Capable?" Loghain bristled, pulling himself up to his full height as best as he could with a weak leg. He punctuated his words with jabs from his pointing finger. "She handed your backside to you at Howe's estate, young man. Cauthrien is the best blade in Ferelden."

The mage's eyebrows rose towards the ceiling. "I'm well aware of that, Loghain."

"She's better than the grey wardens. She's to take my place as the head of the king's army. I have been training her for that since she came into my service."

Amell's brown eyes narrowed, betraying for the first time the irritation that Loghain knew must be simmering underneath the calm surface. "Not everyone is conscripted into the wardens the way you were. Some of us volunteer. It is an honor to become one of us."

Loghain's fists clenched as his frustration mounted. He groped for another strategy, one based on the common ground the three of them shared.

"She has risen through the ranks of the king's army solely on skill. You were born a commoner just like we were. You must know how talented she is to have gotten that far on merit. With me gone, she is the next in rank to take my place. To toss everything she has worked and sacrificed for aside to become a grey warden out of some kind of misguided sense of loyalty would be a complete waste."

"It's already been done," she said.

He spun to face her. Anger at Cauthrien for being so foolish and at himself at not being there to force her to make the right decision seared through him. "You _resigned_?"

"No, m'lord. I did not."

With her words the situation became crystal clear. Still, he didn't want to believe it – couldn't believe it. "You can't mean -" He broke off as he choked on his words and outrage. "Anora would not allow that."

The sorrow and resignation in her voice matched he twisted look of pain on her face. "The Queen did not have a choice. The King has insisted the military be under the command of someone who is loyal to him and not you. The Bannorn has agreed with him. Bann Teagan will be confirmed as the new commander on the morrow."

"_Teagan?_ That pup isn't worthy to polish your boots, let alone lead Ferelden's army! This is outrageous!"

Cauthrien held Loghain's gaze. "Teagan will be a fine commander."

"He is not as good as you."

"No, he's not," she said. "But he is a hero and a nobleman and I am a disgraced lowborn commoner."

The pain her words caused was what Loghain imagined an arrow through his heart would have felt like. He had cost her this opportunity. She was sitting here, stripped of her rank and everything she'd worked twenty years for because his damned hubris.

Loghain snarled, so furious with Maric's bastard that he wasn't able to form words, but resentful resignation followed quickly because he knew there wasn't a damn thing he could do to make it right. With no other options left, he dropped down on the chair next to hers and lapsed into brooding silence.

Cauthrien pulled out the vellum letter sealed with the queen's royal crest. She stood and handed it across the desk. "The Queen asked me to give you this."

Her armor creaked as she sat back down on the chair. It was the only sound in the heavy silence that seeped from Loghain to fill the room. Amell picked up the gold rimmed dwarven spectacles lying on his desk, settling them on his plain face before reading the letter.

The delicate instrument was an odd contrast to the man's sheer size and muscle and yet it seemed to suit him. But then everything Loghain had learned and observed about Marcus Amell had been a study of odd contrasts. He was a mage who used a sword and wore armor. An educated man with ink stains on callused hands that looked like they should be grasping a plow and not a slender quill.

When he was finished, Amell removed the spectacles and put the letter down carefully, covering the vellum with the flat of his hand as he looked away, obviously deep in thought. Loghain had no doubt about what the letter contained. He knew Anora would do what she could for his most loyal retainer, and he knew Amell loved his daughter enough to do this for her.

This was confirmed a few seconds later when Amell said, "The Queen asks that I find a place in our ranks for her. I can see no reason not to allow her to join. You know that we need her blade."

"This is not right," Loghain said. "She should not have to pay for my misjudgment." He turned to face Cauthrien. "There must be a better place for you. There are still some who are loyal to Mac Tir-"

"And what? They take me in out of pity?" Cauthrien shook her head. "I couldn't bear that. Besides, I don't think any of them will have me anyway. My name has been blackened in the eyes of the new king, and no one wants to risk his displeasure." She sighed and looked down at her strong, callused hands. "Teagan offered me a place in the King's army, but I refused."

Loghain wondered if Teagan had offered to marry her again. The pair had been on again off again lovers for years until Loghain had arranged for Eamon's poisoning.

Her hands tightened into fists. "My only other option is to become a sword for hire, but I wish to serve Ferelden. Joining the Grey Wardens would allow me to do that."

"That damned Bannorn! They wouldn't dare do this to you if you were of noble blood. You proved your loyalty to Ferelden when you let Amell into the Landsmeet." Loghain turned his ire to the Warden Commander. "You must act."

Amell's brows moved skyward. "And what would you have me do?"

"Talk sense into Maric's bastard. He will listen to you."

"It is not my place to decide who will lead the Royal forces."

"It wasn't your place to decide who was going to rule Ferelden either and yet you were the one everyone looked to. _You_ made that decision, Amell."

Amell's irritation leaked into his voice. "Only because _you_ gave me no choice. It was either unite Ferelden or be overrun by the blight." He turned his attention back to Cauthrien. "I'm not without sympathy for your predicament, but even if I disagreed with the King's decision, which I don't, the Grey Wardens have already become too intertwined in Ferelden politics. We need to keep our focus on rebuilding. So I am sorry..." he said, ignoring Loghain's glare. "...but I will not interfere."

Cauthrien nodded. "Truly, I did not expect you to intervene on my behalf."

"Loghain is right though. You've proven you're willing to put duty first, and I already know that you're skilled." He nodded towards the closed door. "Most of volunteers are refugees looking for a way to get a roof over their heads and three meals a day, but the grey wardens are not a charity. A few show promise, but they'll need training and discipline from someone like you."

When Amell rose from his chair, both Cauthrien and Loghain stood as well. "So I would like to perform the joining as soon as possible, unless you have a compelling reason to wait." When she shook her head, the Amell continued. "Good. I will prepare the ritual and hopefully Ferelden will have more than two grey wardens tonight. Meet me upstairs when you are ready."

The silence lasted only until the door closed shut.

"Is it true that I could die from the joining?" she asked, turning back to face him now that Amell was gone.

"You won't die. I've sent you into much worse than this. You're too strong to be defeated by their pathetic magics."

"If I do, please tell my family that I died an honorable death."

Loghain's hand tightened around the knob of his walking stick. "If you are going to insist upon this course of action despite my objections, you will have to find someone else to make that pointless oath."

She looked at him for a moment before shaking her head with a sigh. Loghain thought he'd triumphed until she said, "Then you will have to excuse me, m'lord. I need to write a letter the Warden Commander can deliver for me."

He reached out and grabbed her wrist to keep her from walking out of the room. Her breath caught at the skin to skin contact and a frisson of heat spread through his belly, but Loghain didn't let go and Cauthrien stood her ground.

"Young lady, you will listen to me," he barked in the tone that he once used to command an army.

Her spine stiffened. Years under his service had conditioned her to stand at attention when addressed in such a way, but it was her newfound insubordination that fell from her lips. "I am not your lieutenant anymore."

"Yes," he drawled. "You've already made that point perfectly clear."

She looked up at him with eyes both dark and sad. "Do you think that this is how I wanted it to be? What happened at the landsmeet, the way that I betrayed you and stepped aside to let Amell pass…" Her free hand tightened into a fist that she pressed against her armored heart. "…it weighs on my heart like a stone."

"Don't," he demanded. His fingers tightened around her wrist hard enough to leave marks on her skin, but she didn't pull away or flinch. "I could not see where the true danger lay but you did, and you did your duty. Ferelden comes first, _always,_ no matter what the cost. I hold no grudges for that."

Her gaze flickered down to where he was still clutching her wrist. "But you are furious with me for this."

"Your stubborn determination to throw yourself to the wolves is quite maddening."

She jerked her chin up. "I am what you taught me to be."

He snorted his indignation. "I did not teach you to be this insolent."

Her brows lifted towards the ceiling. "On the contrary, I've watched you rage and bully and argue with Ferelden nobility for nearly twenty years. I've learned insolence and independence from the best." Her face darkened. "Though perhaps not well enough. If I had objected to your orders more forcefully -"

"I would have dismissed you from my service, as you well know. The fault is mine and the consequences should be mine alone to bear as well."

"That's not true. I have my own sins to atone for which is why I deserved to be stripped of my rank and title." For a moment her raw grief for what was lost was laid bare on her face. And then it was gone, replaced by something softer and far more dangerous. "Perhaps it's for the best. I don't think I could bear choosing between following duty and following you again."

"Cauthrien," Loghain growled, "You are loyal to a fault."

Brown eyes searched his face. "This is not just loyalty. You must know that."

_Of course_ he knew. He was the one who'd realized what burned between them first. It was not by choice, the awareness having been thrust upon him years ago in one devastatingly painful moment of clarity. Cauthrien had remained ignorant for much longer, and in truth Loghain wished that it had stayed that way. What sparked beneath the surface was much easier to ignore when it was confined to one side. But awareness had crept up on her too, despite his wishes, until each glance or touch or silence thrummed with everything unsaid.

He pulled her closer until they were eye to eye and growled the words out, determined to make her listen. "What I know is that a talented young woman is throwing away her future to follow a broken and disgraced man. I will not allow you do that for me."

The maneuver was a gross miscalculation. She was much too close. He could feel the grip of desire, as strong as the tide, pulling them together.

"You're wrong. I'm not doing this for _you_," she said as she closed the small distance between them. "I'm doing this for _me_."

And then her lips were on his. Sensibility and prudence were swept away by the ache in his chest that was too strong to allow anything other than crushing his mouth against hers.

To his chagrin, it was Cauthrien who found the willpower to pull back first. "As much as you hate it, I am taking this path." She jerked her wrist away. "You will have to accept it."

"I won't," he bellowed at her back as she turned and strode out of the room. Loghain took a step forward, his injured leg buckling under his weight. By the time he scrambled for his walking stick and managed to limp out of the hall, she was nowhere in sight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

With a sneer, Loghain watched the Warden Commander fill the joining chalice with fresh darkspawn blood. Loghain hated the overwrought and pretentious goblet; it was the physical manifestation of everything he detested about the pompous joining ritual and the Grey Wardens themselves.

Next to the Warden Commander, Leliana paused from lighting candles and tilted her head to study him with the same delighted expression that she had whenever she inspected a new pair of shoes.

"What's the matter with him?" she asked Amell.

Amell's lips twitched. "He's standing right there. Why don't you ask him?"

The bard smiled in the dreamy, half-witted way she always did before she said something completely idiotic. "Because I find his glowering so amusing. I wouldn't wish to interrupt it."

"Why is she here?" Loghain demanded. "Isn't this ritual of yours supposed to be done in secret?"

She punctuated her words with an absurd flourish of her hand. "Perhaps I am writing an epic poem about the last Grey Wardens of Ferelden."

Amell's voice was wry. "Or perhaps she is here because I'm going to need help once the darkspawn blood takes effect. Ser Cauthrien is not a small woman, and I'm assuming you wouldn't want to leave her on the floor once the ritual is over. You cannot help me lift her without doing further damage to your leg."

"Especially since she insists on wearing her impressive armor," Leliana said. "I told her she would be more comfortable if she removed it, but she said she preferred to face death with her armor on and her sword strapped to her back."

It was such a typical thing for Cauthrien to say that the words made him realize how much he'd missed her presence the last few months he'd traveled with the Grey Warden.

"She won't die. She's too strong. I've sent her into battle where she has been surrounded and outnumbered by enemies. Against men of more experience and with greater strength, and she has always walked out alive. She will conquer the demon blood."

Amell and Leliana exchanged a silent glance before Leliana patted his shoulder like he was some kind of distraught child. "I hope you are right."

Loghain jerked away. "Of course I'm right," he said as he tried to pace. The sharp twinge in his leg made him halt and lean heavily against his walking stick.

At that, both the mage and the bard stopped talking and returned to their preparations for the ritual, although Leliana didn't stop her speculative glances. A few minutes of glowering silence later, Cauthrien finally entered carrying a stack of letters.

She met Loghain's eyes. Her lips thinned as she made her way towards the warden commander. Loghain stepped into her path and thrust out his hand.

"Give your letters to me."

Cauthrien lifted her brows, but she didn't surrender the letters. Instead she paused and studied his face. Whatever conclusion she came to made her frown even more. "What made you change your mind?"

"It's my duty."

He could see the disappointment crack through her composure as she looked away. "Duty. Of course." Her gaze flickered over to where Amell was waiting. "Well the duty is the Warden Commander's now, not yours."

She stepped around him, approached the mage, murmured her request and when Amell nodded his assent, handed him the letters. It was a good thing the letters disappeared into Amell's robe quickly, because the juvenile urge to march across the room and snatch the letters out of Amell's hand was stronger than it should have ever been for a man of his age. Loghain was so irritated with both himself for being a fool and with Cauthrien for her stubbornness that he didn't notice Leliana standing beside him until she spoke.

"You are worried for her," she murmured. "That is so sweet."

"I told you," he said. "There's nothing to worry about."

Laughter bubbled from her lips. "No. You told yourself that because you are afraid you will lose her." When Loghain didn't dignify that nonsense with a response, she continued with a breathy sigh. "I think it's very romantic."

He turned and glared down at her. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Leliana looked back up at him with no trace of shame for her impertinent remarks on her pretty face. "Oh, I think I do."

Relief from her idiot musings came with the beginning of the joining ritual. At the makeshift dais in the front of the room Amell lifted the chalice and started the traditional chant, "Join us brothers and sisters…"

The meaningless words were familiar – the same Riordan had spoken with solemn gravity at Loghain's own joining. Loghain paid as little attention to them as he had then. Shortly, Amell's rumbling baritone stopped and he handed Cauthrien the ornate chalice. She took it without hesitation, lifted it to her lips and drank.

For a few seconds, nothing happened. Cauthrien's brow wrinkled in confusion as she waited. Amell simply stood in silence, his large hands clasped in front of him.

It was her hands that betrayed the first sign of the darkspawn taint running through her veins. They began to shake so badly that the woman who wielded the Summer Sword with such deadly grace couldn't keep a simple cup from slipping through her grip.

Cauthrien gasped a horrible wet gurgle, her eyes rolling back until only the whites were visible before fluttering shut. Even though Loghain had known this was coming, even though he'd told himself and everyone who would listen that she was not going to die, fear sluiced through him, propelling him forward despite the hot twinges of pain through his injured leg.

Loghain caught her under her arms. While he managed to keep the pommel of her great broadsword from hitting him in the face, his knee buckled under their combined weight, sending them crashing down. Amell slid his arm around her waist and lifted her off Loghain, placing her gently on the floor. Loghain ignored the firestorm of pain consuming his leg and began his frantic inspection of her pale and still face, grabbing it with both of his hands.

If she was breathing it was so shallow that Loghain couldn't see the rise and fall of her chest under the weight of her armor. Fear and grief howled through him making his fingers shake as he fumbled over her clammy skin. He searched for the pulse point on her neck, pressing his fingers into her skin hard as though he could keep death from taking her by sheer force of will.

And then, mercifully, he found her signs of her heartbeat. It wasn't as strong as he would have liked, but the rhythm was steady. Relief triumphed. Loghain let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and met the Warden Commander's gaze. Amell nodded and then beckoned to Leliana. She looked down at them with that damned idiotic smile plastered on her lips once again.

"You will have to let her go if we are going to get her to bed," she said. Loghain's lips tightened, his instinct telling him not to lessen his grip on Cauthrien. It was a fool notion and Loghain knew it, so he forced himself to draw his hands back.

"Don't worry. I will take good care of her, I promise," Leliana said. Her reassurance only made Loghain scowl further as she and Marcus flanked Cauthrien and lifted her, draping her arms over their shoulders.

He tried to stand and protest, the last thing he wanted to do was leave Cauthrien in the care of the silly bard, but barely managed to lift himself off the floor before hissing in pain and easing back down again.

Amell frowned down at him. "Stay there until I come back."

They carried her from the room to the sound of Loghain's muttering curses. Order or not, Loghain was determined to follow them anyway and he tried to rise again the second they passed through the threshold, this time getting half again higher than before, but at the cost of twice the pain. Realizing that he was not going to be able to make it to his feet without help, he waited.

It was almost a full ten minutes later before Amell reappeared and crouched down next to him. Ten minutes not knowing what was happening.

The word cracked through the silence of the room. "Well?"

Amell pushed Loghain's trouser leg up, inspecting the inflamed swollen flesh underneath with a grimace. "She's unconscious, but in better shape than you. When the nightmares wake her in a few hours, she'll be confused and sore, but other than that fine." Amell's expression didn't change, but the tone of his voice shifted into something that was almost amusement. "But you knew that, of course, since you told us so yourself."

Loghain sent a wry glare in Amell's direction that was interrupted with a hiss as Amell's healing magics coursed into his leg with much less finesse than Wynne had shown earlier. "What now?"

"I help you back to your room. Wynne checks on you in the morning when, no doubt, both of us will receive a stern lecture about the further damage to your leg." For a moment smile tugged at the corner of the mage's lips. Whether it was from amusement at Loghain's predicament or from a remembrance of his own dealings with the fussy mage, Loghain could not tell.

"And Cauthrien?"

Amell shrugged. "It shouldn't be long before she wakes. A few hours at most."

Loghain fell into silent brooding even though the demand to be there when she woke itched at his lips. Amell finished his work, clasped Loghain's hand and pulled his subordinate to his feet. Loghain wobbled a bit but his leg managed to hold enough to lean on his walking stick.

Intense brown eyes narrowed at him as Amell studied him in silence. He seemed to be weighing something in his mind, and finally he spoke. "Is this going to be a problem?"

Loghain's bushy brows knit together, as the lines around his mouth deepened into his perpetual frown. "Speak plainly, young man."

"Will you be able to accept that she follows my orders and not yours? Will she?"

Loghain took a deep breath and let it out in tired sigh. "We have both sworn our oaths. We will both honor it. But I will not lie – this is going to take some time to get used to."

It seemed to satisfy Amell enough that he nodded his acceptance. "You want to be there when she wakes, don't you?"

"It is your duty, not mine," he admitted. "But old habits die hard."

The mage crossed his arms over his large chest. "I am not convinced that duty or habit is what this is really about."

Loghain stopped short. "Your ridiculous bard has been putting ideas in your head. We have never been lovers."

Amell's opened his mouth to speak, but Loghain was too angry to allow it.

"Cauthrien spent years fending off vicious lies from spoiled noble whelps too proud to admit that a commoner and a woman was a better soldier and commander than they ever were. They tried to tear her apart with their foul words by insinuating that she'd slept her way to her high rank. It cost her, myself and my lady wife much grief, so I will thank you for not repeating that slander."

The mage continued to look at him with that infuriatingly calm gaze. "I never said that you were lovers. But it is obvious you care deeply about her."

"What of it?" Loghain demanded.

Amell shrugged. "Nothing, other than the fact that she might appreciate your presence more than mine when she wakes from the nightmares." He nodded toward Cauthrien's door. "Make sure she is well and let her know that I wish to see both of you first thing in the morning."

Confusion deepened Loghain's perpetual frown. "I thought you would want to assert your authority as her commander."

"I don't think that will be necessary. If it becomes so, I will handle it then. Goodnight, Loghain." And with that, the mage turned and strode down the hall, leaving Loghain alone and perplexed before Cauthrien's door.


	3. Chapter 3

I'm bumping the rating up to M here because it gets rather smutty. This is definitely NSFW.

* * *

**Chapter Three  
**

The bedroom was similar to other rooms in Denerim's most notorious whorehouse: dark woods, rich tapestries and a ridiculously oversized bed centered on the far wall. Cauthrien was still unconscious, but at least with her armor removed, Loghain could see he gentle rise and fall of her chest underneath the blanket.

He settled in to wait on one of the chairs by the fire. On the low table before him, the mage and bard had laid out Cauthrien's armor, sword, and the letters she had written. With nothing else to do, Loghain inspected the chain and plate. It was something that he hadn't done since her first set of armor. Although he could see signs of recent repair, probably from damage taken in the recent battle for the city, there wasn't one spot of rust or one piece of cracked leather on the harness straps. But then Cauthrien had always heeded those early lessons of armorcraft; he could still see her, the lean and leggy girl of fourteen summers, dark eyes intent as she drank in every word.

Inspection complete, Loghain picked up the stack of letters. The familiar utilitarian scrawl above the wax seals was far more similar to his own quill scratching than the delicate flowing script that marked the writing of most of the women in his life. But unlike his wife, his daughter and his former Queen, Cauthrien not been given a formal education, at least until he'd discovered that the farm girl with the quick mind and deadly blade was illiterate.

He picked through the letters. One was addressed to the Chantry in the town closest to her family's farm. It made sense. Had the letters become necessary to send, no doubt the Chantry brothers and sisters would have been the ones to read the news of Cauthrien's demise aloud to a family that was just as illiterate as their daughter had once been. Another was addressed to the Queen, and while Loghain was certainly curious as to what kind of correspondence his Cauthrien and his daughter might have, it was the last letter that drew his attention. It was addressed to Teagan. His fingers itched to rip the seal open or perhaps just toss it in the fire, but he threw that letter back onto the table with the others.

None of the letters were addressed to him.

Irritated more than he should have been, he turned his attention to her sword, hefting it with a soft grunt and laying the flat of the long blade across his lap. He'd given it to her on the day she'd been knighted by Maric because she'd earned the blade far more than the spoiled Orlesian whelp he'd won it from. He absently traced the intricate engraving on the hilt while his mind wandered back to the woman in the bed.

Loghain glanced over at Cauthrien once again, shook his head and fell into a brooding gloom. By the time the rustle of fabric and soft moans drew Loghain out of his thoughts, the candles in Cauthrien's room had burned down to nubs, casting the room in a soft, muted glow. He ran a callused hand over his face, set the greatsword aside and turned his attention to his former lieutenant.

Cauthrien twisted on the bead, clutching the blankets and whimpering as though she were in pain. Loghain knew the cause – the terrible dreams of the darkspawn horde, or rather, what was left of them. Loghain still experienced them occasionally himself, although not of the Archdemon anymore, for which he was truly grateful.

Loghain grabbed his walking stick, pushed himself to his feet and hobbled over to the bed. He sat down to rest his aching leg and shook Cauthrien's bare shoulder. It took several tries before she awoke with a gasp, bolting upright and grabbing his wrist as though she thought she were about to take a blow.

He knew from experience that the confusing haze and panic of the vivid darkspawn dreams would still be clinging to her, so he barked, "Hold, Cauthrien!" before she could swing her other fist at him.

Her conditioning cut through her confusion. She blinked at him and dropped her hands into her lap, trembling in silence. With her hair tumbling to her bare shoulders, he'd never seen her look so damned vulnerable.

"Oh, _Maker,_" she croaked.

Offering comfort wasn't something he excelled at. Usually his attempts at such things made matters worse. So Loghain groped for the goblet of mulled wine on the nightstand, probably set there by Leliana, and thrust it into Cauthrien's hands. It was the first time he'd ever been grateful for the bard's meddling.

"Drink," he demanded.

She closed her eyes and took a long swallow. The wine seemed to steady her well enough so that when she spoke again she sounded more like herself.

"Are the dreams always like that?"

"No. They were much worse before the Archdemon was slain."

Cauthrien sighed, put the wine aside, and pushed her chestnut hair back from her face. "Then I am grateful I never witnessed them."

Now that he knew that she was going to be fine, he unleashed his pent up temper. "You wouldn't have had any nightmares at all, if you hadn't gone through with that damned ritual."

She jerked her chin up. "It cannot be undone now no matter how much you wish it so."

"Yes," he drawled. "You have been quite successful in your defiance."

"I am not sorry for my actions."

He knew she wasn't just talking about joining the wardens. "I gathered that, young lady."

Her spine stiffened and she crossed her arms. "And I am not a young lady either. I'm a woman of four and thirty, which makes me neither a blushing maiden, nor the girl of fourteen summers that you took into your service."

The blanket slid down with the stubborn gesture underscoring her words by exposing the beginnings of soft curves and causing a near painful stab of desire. But Cauthrien could not have undressed herself. Her lack of clothing must have been more of the bard's doing, and Loghain swore he was going to throttle the meddling girl when he saw her next.

"It has not escaped my notice," Loghain said. But despite his resolve not to be manipulated by a brash Orlesian spy, he could not stop himself from touching Cauthrien's face. He skimmed a thumb across her cheek and murmured, "I am well aware of the woman you've become."

Cauthrien closed her eyes and turned her face into his hand. When she spoke, her grief was laced through her voice. "And yet you are going to walk out that door, aren't you?"

He pulled his hand away and sighed. "Yes."

She opened her eyes, and wounded frustration chased the softness away from her face. "You want this. I know that you do."

"Very much," he admitted.

"Then why?"

"You know why."

"No, I don't," she insisted. "None of the reasons that kept us from acting exist anymore. You are not married, you are not my commander, and we have already been disgraced for things far more terrible than this. As far as I can see, we have nothing left to lose."

"I still have enemies who would use this against us."

"We are now sworn to serve the man who was your greatest enemy. Do you think that he would forbid this? Amell does not strike me as that sort of overbearing commander."

Loghain had observed the man and his traveling companions for many months, and he knew Cauthrien was right. Amell led with a light touch. As long as he and Cauthrien followed orders, the mage would not interfere. "I was not speaking of Amell, but of the Bannorn. All of those rumors and lies that we faced for years - they would see this as an affirmation that they were right!"

"Do you really think the Bannorn is going to care if you and I share a bed now that we are Grey Wardens? And even if they did, what could they possibly do to us that they haven't done already?"

"They could use this against my daughter. Anora is in a vulnerable position right now."

She fixed him with her pointed gaze. "You, of all people, should know that the Queen is quite capable of taking care of herself."

The truth in her words stung. "I am still her father."

"Yes you are. But you are neither the regent nor a commander. The Queen will soon have a new King and a new leader for her army, and you and I are already an afterthought."

Loghain turned the full force of his glare on her. "I do not need to be reminded of my downfall. I know what was lost."

"But you haven't accepted it, have you?"

"I don't know what you mean," he growled.

Cauthrien's voice rose to match his. "You have been the center of power for so long that you cannot bear the fact that you are no longer in control. That is why you fought to keep me from joining the grey wardens. That is why you're going to walk away now."

"I walk away because it is necessary!"

"Ferelden has always required your continued sacrifice, it's true. Until _now_. But you are going to impose it on yourself anyway, because your pride will not allow you to admit that the fate of this kingdom no longer hangs on you."

It was a blow hard as any she had ever dealt with her greatsword. "Did you think that I would be able to embrace my irrelevance? I am not blind, Cauthrien. I know where I stand."

"Then perhaps I am mistaken. Perhaps you've been alone and miserable for so long, that you have become enamored of it and cannot conceive of being otherwise."

On a day when his ego had already taken more blows than he cared to count, her last words cut to the quick. Loghain snatched up his walking stick, jammed the end into the floor and pushed himself to his feet.

"Enough," he bellowed. "We are done here."

She turned away, drew her knees up to her chest and choked the words out. "Then take your leave, m'lord."

The heartbroken look on her face was too similar to the one that had on Rowan's face when he'd turned her aside years before. He couldn't face it, not again, so he turned and half stomped and half hobbled across the room, his walking stick smacking against the wood floor in time with his steps.

But with each painful step, his fury and resolve crumbled under the truth of her words. She wasn't Rowan who had to be given up for the good of the nation. She wasn't his lieutenant whose ambitions would be shattered for the disgrace of loving her superior. He was neither reagent nor a commander and a kingdom no longer hung in the balance.

When he reached the door his fingers tightened around the cool metal latch, but he hesitated. He knew in his gut that walking away would not be a necessary sacrifice this time, but the actions of a prideful coward, unable to face what was before him. The thought rankled so badly that he growled and dropped his hand.

Defeated, he turned to face her. The words cracked through the oppressive silence in the room. "You have learned to wield your words as well as your blade."

Her voice was thick and she did not look at him as she spoke. "I have overstepped my bounds. I should not have said those things."

"It was the truth," he admitted. His hand tightened around the knob of his walking stick. "Sharp words tend to clarify matters immensely, whether we want them to or not."

Cauthrien blinked in confusion, but at least she turned to face him. "Do they?"

"Yes. Especially when one is being an arrogant and stubborn fool." He allowed a rueful sigh to escape his lips. "You deserve better a better man, Cauthrien."

She hesitated for a few more moments, as though she couldn't decide what to do, before rising from the bed. He watched her move across the room, clad only in her smallclothes, her skin glowing copper in the candlelight.

Cauthrien stopped before him, and met his gaze. "After everything we have done, I don't know what you or I deserve," she said. "But I know what I want."

He reached for her, cupping her face in his hand again. His thumb traced the exquisite curve of her lip. "I should warn you. I am not an easy man to love."

She closed the distance between them, placing her strong hands on his chest. "As you have informed me many times in the past, nothing worth having is easy, m'lord."

That she thought he was worth all of the pain he had put her through, even though she been witness to his worst, was truly humbling.

He cleared the lump in his throat. "Very well. Since you are determined on this fool notion, I have one condition."

The corner of her lip turned up. "Oh?"

"I am not a Teryn anymore. You must to learn to address me by my given name."

"I…" Cauthrien's brows knit together as her lips turned down into a frown. "That will be difficult."

For all of her newfound independence, it appeared that Loghain wasn't the only one who would have to break old habits. That he was not the only one having trouble adjusting to their new circumstances was somehow heartening.

He brushed her hair back behind one ear with callused fingers and indulged himself by pressing his lips against the column of her neck.

"Nevertheless," he murmured against her skin. "We are equals now. I require it."

Her breath hitched. She breathed the words out. "Is that an order?"

"No." He pulled back so he could look her in the eye. "No more orders."

Her brows quirked upward. "Really?"

He paused for a moment or two before adding a wry, "Perhaps a demand or two on occasion."

Her lips settled into a bemused smile. She took his hand and led him across the room to the bed. When he sat down on the edge, she placed his walking stick aside and pressed her lips to his temple. He pulled her down until she straddled his lap.

They touched each other tentatively at first. A brush of fingers across his collar bone. A hand following the arch of her back. A whisper of a kiss on his jaw. A thumb grazing the flat of her belly.

He grew bolder, bending to taste soft skin over firm muscle. When his teeth nipped her shoulder, she made a sound that went straight to his groin, but he had waited years for this and would not be rushed. Loghain's mouth roamed until he found one of her scars. He followed the path it cut across her shoulder and collarbone, until it dipped between her breasts and disappeared under her smallclothes.

He pulled back and frowned at the offending garment. "Take that infernal binding off."

The corner of her eyes crinkled. "One of your occasional demands already?"

He answered with a decided, "Yes."

She laughed softly and did as she was bid. It was not a sound he heard very often, and one that he almost never caused himself. It warmed him in ways he had not thought possible.

And then time seemed to slow and melt as Loghain touched her scars. Where he could not reach them with his mouth, he traced them with his hands, the tip of his fingers skimming over her flesh as she trembled.

He knew her wounds as well as his own. The scars that crossed her soft skin were a living map of his time as her commander, of the training she'd endured, of the orders she'd followed, of the sacrifices she'd made. He didn't know if he was honoring her strength or taking possession, but he didn't stop until he was finished.

When he finally looked back up at her face, Cauthrien's eyes were wide and her cheeks wet. Worried, another demand formed on his lips, but she silenced him with a brush of fingertips followed by a kiss.

Her lips were soft, but her kiss burned with an urgent intensity that scorched away the haze surrounding them. His response was not gentle, but she was strong and had demands of her own. She tugged at his tunic, and he broke away just long enough to pull it over his head.

Mutual need pulled them back together. She plunged her fingers into his hair. He tightened his arm around her back, pressing the palm of his hand against the nape of her neck, his fingers digging into her hot skin. He pushed a hand between her thighs, past the fabric of her smallclothes and into her slick heat. Cauthrien moaned into his mouth as he stroked her. Her body quivered under a relentless assault that continued until she cried out her release.

She slumped against him for a few moments, resting her head in the crook of his neck as she caught her breath, while he savored his triumph. Then her fingers trailed down through the hair on his chest and she shifted so she could reach the laces of his breaches. He was treated to the exquisite torture of her fingers brushing over his groin as she worked, but it was nothing compared to when her hand dipped into his clothing. With one deft movement, she pulled him free of his garments.

The world went white hot as she touched his length and girth and now it was his turn to groan. She seemed content to explore him with her strong hands, but the need that coiled in his belly demanded immediate action. He cupped the delicious curve of her backside and lifted her forward. She made a sound of delighted surprise that melted into a moan when he buried himself inside her.

It didn't take them long to find their rhythm. They had sparred and trained and fought side by side for so long that it was nothing to unravel the meaning of the press of palms against her back or the scrape of nails against his shoulder. When she tipped her head back and bared her throat, he bit her skin and thrust into her harder.

Loghain was rewarded with his name tumbling from her lips. It was the first time she'd ever said it and that she was gasping it in pleasure gave him much satisfaction. But it also had the effect of fraying the remains of his control. With each thrust and matching rock of her hips he could feel it slipping and spinning out of his grasp.

She was close. He could feel it in the tension of the lean muscles on her back and hear it in the sound of her cries. His hands slid down and grasped her hips. She bent back further, arching under his hands, until he could nuzzle her breasts. The tips of her fingers dug into his shoulders and her body quaked, rippling around him as she claimed her pleasure.

Loghain tightened his arms around her, crushing the swell of her breasts against the hard plain of his chest. She wound arms around his neck and he buried his face in her hair. The need that had been pent up for too long, scorched through him, finally free. Utterly undone, Loghain surrendered with a thrust and a growl.

Everything stilled. Eventually she stirred against him, sitting back and looking down at his half dressed state with a bemused frown. "Perhaps it's time to remove your boots and trousers."

He made an amused grunt. "Perhaps you are right."

She shifted off of his lap and crawled into bed. He pulled his boots and breaches off and set them neatly next to hers. For a moment he just sat there, overwhelmed by the simple intimacy of having their belongings side by side, an intimacy he thought he'd never share with another woman. With a rueful shake of his head, he turned back to Cauthrien who was watching him intently and joined her, shifting on his uninjured side to face her.

She sighed and ran a finger over his braid. "You are still troubled."

"No," he said. He took her strong hand in his and pressed it to his lips before folding it against his chest. "More like astonished. I admit that I am at a loss as to what happens next."

"We do what we've always done. Get up in the morning, follow our duty, such as it is, and see where it takes us."

His lips formed his habitual thoughtful frown. "Surely it cannot be that simple."

She shifted closer until her forehead was resting against his collarbone. He draped his other arm around her, pulling her closer until he could feel her breath against his chest.

"It is if you allow it to be," she murmured.

Cauthrien fell silent, closed her eyes, and with a few minutes he could feel the even rise and fall of her chest as she fell asleep. Loghain lay awake for a long time afterward, reflecting on her words, thinking about what he'd both gained and lost, and when the gloom threatened to close in, the warmth of her body kept it at bay.


	4. Chapter 4

**Epilogue**

Loghain woke to the sound of soft knocking. For a moment, he wondered why his room looked different. When his mind cleared and the memories of the night before returned, heat spread through his belly. But Cauthrien was already gone, apparently arising early and leaving him to his rest, and his disappointment was not insubstantial.

More insistent rapping of knuckles on wood cut through his thoughts. He pushed himself to a sitting position, ran his hands over his face and barked, "What?"

When the door opened and the ridiculous bard and the fussy mage walked through, Loghain groaned.

"I told you he wasn't in his room," Leliana said, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

"Is there some reason my privacy is being invaded this early in the morning?" he demanded.

Wynne placed her hands on the curve of her hip and looked down at him. "Marcus sent for me. He told me you injured your leg further last night."

He glared up at her. "Ah. It is time for my daily scolding then."

He supposed he should be grateful that she had not made good with the threat to bring his daughter along considering where they had found him.

The mage's lips twitched as she sat on the bed and pulled the bed covers from his leg. "No scolding today."

Her inspection commenced in silence. Loghain was taken aback by the lack of sharp words and disapproving glances. "I am all disappointment, madam."

"Leliana told me what happened last night," Wynne said as she unwrapped the bandage. "You reinjured yourself by showing concern for another, and I cannot fault you for that."

The denials born of years of habit came quickly to mind. It was such an odd sensation of bittersweet freedom to not need them anymore.

His brows knit together. "I see."

"I confess, I did not think you capable of that kind of feeling."

"I am not surprised. You have always assumed the worst of me."

"I have," Wynne admitted. She looked up and met his gaze. "But in this instance, it is nice to be proven wrong."

"That is a great comfort, madam," he drawled. "Since you know how much I live for your approval."

Wynne responded with a soft chuckle as she returned to inspecting his leg.

"You should have been there, Wynne," Leliana said. "It was very romantic."

Wynne did not even bother hiding her amusement. "No doubt it was. Although it doesn't seem to have improved his temper any, which is a shame."

Wynne finished fussing with his bandages and stood. "Marcus did well enough with the magics last night, and there seems to be no further damage to your leg." Amusement flashed across her face again. "Just be certain that any nighttime activities you indulge in do not put anymore strain on it, at least for awhile."

Loghain's glare seemed only to increase her mirth. "Noted."

"Oh I almost forgot. This is for you." Leliana pushed the bowl he had not noticed she was carrying into his hands. It surprised him so much that he nearly spilled it into his lap. It appeared to be some kind of porridge.

"And what is this for?"

"Eating, of course!" she said it as though it was perfectly natural for her to be serving him breakfast in bed. "Marcus wants to see you first thing, and I thought I'd save you a trip to the kitchens."

He looked down at the offending bowl, wondering perhaps if she had poisoned the contents. But his hunger, fueled by the darkspawn taint, made his belly growl. So with a growl of his own, he relented and took a bite.

"I would thank you," he said. "But it would only encourage your ridiculous meddling more."

She laughed as she and the fussy mage took their leave, throwing the words over her shoulder. "You are welcome, Loghain."

Shaking his head, he turned his attention to finishing the porridge and then dressing so that within a few minutes of their departure, he was hobbling down the hall to the Warden Commander's study.

When he reached the door, he stopped and regarded it with a thoughtful frown. Loghain was uncertain how long he stood there, but eventually his brooding was interrupted by a hesitant touch on his arm.

Cauthrien looked at him, biting her lip with worry, but he covered her hand with his own. The feel of her warm skin was a balm to his battered pride.

"Follow our duty and see where it takes us, eh?" he asked.

She smiled. "That is the general idea, yes."

It still rankled to be under the authority of another, and Loghain suspected that it always would be so, but the sting was less today than he had thought it would be.

"Well then, we should get to it."

He knocked on the Warden Commander's door and waited, if not quite patiently, at least in silent acceptance until he heard the voice within bidding them to enter.


End file.
